


Apparition (Ghost Stories)

by crystalblinks (orphan_account)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 19:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11088378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/crystalblinks
Summary: I can see dead people!  We’ve all seen the movies, watched gaunt looking main characters yell this at concerned friends and family. Hell, even I’ve seen a couple, but what the movies can’t quite capture with their multi million dollar budgets and fantastic actors is just what it’s like to see dead people. They’re everywhere filling up every corner in every room, an overflowing cauldron of spirits and decay on display for me to see. It’s hard enough knowing their there, it’s why I won’t interact with them. At every corner is a different soul, with a different story.Here's mine.





	Apparition (Ghost Stories)

**Author's Note:**

> For Cap RBB  
> Art by: misnoart   
> https://misnoart.tumblr.com/post/161417905353/here-it-is-my-entry-for-the-crbb-im-so-happy?is_highlighted_post=1

(Steve’s Perspective)  
It had been years since my mother died. She spent her final weeks wilting away in a hospital bed, whispering prayers in a language only she could understand. After her death I’d taken to ghost stories, but not just ghost stories, ghost hunting. Our spirits had to go somewhere and I figured that they probably stayed here, better than most of the other theories. And the evidence for that was overwhelming. Bucky, who stood by my side whenever I needed it, always accompanied me on the hunts, a solid presence in the world of the spirits. Many people dismissed ghost hunting as the sport of the delusional, but the sightings couldn’t be ignored, especially when there was so much activity in places all across the world, especially in a hospital so close to me and Bucky. We’d heard stories, legends about the old hospital and what continued to fill its walls. It was a ghost hunter’s dream.  
“We shouldn’t go to the west wing, looks like it’s got the most activity, but it’s not safe.” Bucky said, long fingers outlining our path on the map.  
“That’s fine, the third floor should be pretty active too, although we just have to watch out for the elevator shaft, it might be open.”  
When we entered the hospital, armed with our gear, it was even odder than I thought it would be. The only light in the building came from our flashlights, illuminating the old hallways, filled with abandoned equipment, wheelchairs and iv stands, gurneys and scrubs scattered among the dust and dirt. In contrast to the bustle of an open hospital the sheer silence of the building, absent of every sound but our breathing was scarier than any ghost or spirit either of us could dream up.  
“There we go!” Bucky said prying open the third floor door. A cloud of dust seemed to settle over the hallway, swirling in crescendo before falling on the cracked linoleum. I brushed him slightly as we walked through the third floor. He seemed to be vibrating with energy, almost as excited as I was. We’d been planning this excursion for months, and now that the day was here it was as if there was something in the air, an energy that seemed to ververbatate off the walls.  
Something that sounded all too much like footsteps seemed to move in front of us, sprinting down the hallway, followed by the slamming of a door. “Buck, did you hear that?” I asked glancing back at him.  
“And the elevator doors clos’d.” He mumbled preoccupied with the exit.  
I began moving following the sound of the footsteps, they echoed down hallways with twists and turns that seemed endless, crevices my flashlight couldn’t even touch. For a split second I thought I could hear Bucky calling my name, but the soft blue light emitting from the corridor shifted my state of mind.  
“Bucky!” I called down to him, “You’ve got to see this!”  
A figure began to emerge, yellow morphing into greens and reds, before settling on translucent white and blue. It began to take shape, face gaining features strikingly similar to my own. “M-mom?” She seemed to smile softly, blonde hair floating behind her, another creature altogether. Her smile soon turned into frown, her eyes resigned, hints of disappointment creeping into the corners of her irises. Then her face seemed to melt from the figure, distorting into a thing of nightmares, gaunt eyes stared into mine. “GET OUT!” A gust of air pushed me backwards, knocking me down with a brutal force.  
“AAAAAAAHHH!”  
A sharp scream pierced the air, causing the moment to shatter, images of my mother in fragments on the floor. “Bucky?” I scrambled to my feet and ran back down the hallway, hunting for him to no avail. I looked in every room and every corner only to find myself crouched on the grimy floor, alone.“Bucky!”

Three Years Later (Sam’s Perspective)  
I can see dead people! We’ve all seen the movies, watched gaunt looking main characters yell this at concerned friends and family. Hell, even I’ve seen a couple, but what the movies can’t quite capture with their multi million dollar budgets and fantastic actors is just what it’s like to see dead people. They’re everywhere filling up every corner in every room, an overflowing cauldron of spirits and decay on display for me to see. It’s hard enough knowing their there, it’s why I won’t interact with them. At every corner is a different soul, with a different story. The young teacher who got in a horrific accident right outside of the university, wrapping her car around one of the poles and her body in eternal flame. The student with a scholarship and a mind brighter than the sun who hung himself in his dorm room four months before graduation, stuck swinging from rope for the rest of eternity. Every space in the university is filled with lost souls and dark entities lurking in the corridors of sorority houses and classrooms, souls I want to avoid.  
“Sam!” Nat called, waving a hand in front of my face. She had a small look of concern on her face, framed by firey red hair. Nat was flanked by Clint who had taken to wrapping himself around her every moment he got.  
“Huh?”  
“Huh?” Her face twisted slightly in mockery. “We were talking about what we should do tonight.”  
“We should watch that new horror movie!” Clint suggested, pushing the movie towards me, puppy dog eyes already tugging on my heart strings.  
“No thanks, I’ve got enough blood and gore in my life.” Clint rolled his eyes, as did Nat.  
“You are the one who wanted to go into medicine.” She reminded, head cocked to the side, her smirk-smile crossing her lips. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”  
“It’s not that it’s just...” My eyes traveled across the lunchroom, skipping over the girl with peanut allergies who couldn’t get to her epipen in time and the boy who’d lost a fatal fight in the corridor last spring but I settled on the the guy from my history class. He was a classic blonde haired blue eyed dream, but there was a sort of underlying strength that he seemed to radiate. From what I’d said to him he seemed overwhelmingly gentle and compassionate.  
“Ah, I see.” Nat said, her voice the definition of smug. “You’re not ignoring us you’re just too busy staring at Rogers!” She glanced over at him as he absentmindedly sketched, his lunch all but forgotten. “He is cute, I get it.”  
Clint looked up from his phone and followed Nat’s eyeline. “Oh yeah, Sam’s got a big crush on him.” He waved a hand absentmindedly before returning to his phone.  
“Yeah, I do.”  
“But you don’t even talk to him.” He replied, flicking his eyes up to glance at me.  
“Which is why you should go talk to him!” Nat said already pushing me towards his table.  
“Maybe some other time, when he’s by himself.”  
She looked at me with bloodcurdling disbelief. “What are you talking about? He’s alone right now!” She motioned towards Steve who noticed and looked up and smiled, awkward and bashful. He waved at me and I waved back, despite the ghost lurking next to him, one I’d seen often. His arm was gone and looked as if it had been torn off in some ghastly, otherworldly accident. Overgrown hair framed gaunt features and a scowl that seemed to permeate my spirit. Sorry Nat, but lately he’s never really been alone.  
***  
“It’s gotta be in here somewhere.” Nat remarked as we entered the (almost) vacant lecture hall. She’d brought me here to hunt for her textbook, the last stop on a hunt that had taken us all the way across campus from our dorm. The room was barely lit, and there was only one ghost in the lecture hall, a small girl, curly black hair pinned up in afro puffs, her feet swinging from the professor’s desk. Every so often she’d take a lick from an incarnadine lollipop swirled with black, the stem crafted of bone. I’d only seen her once, outside the library running around with one of the spirit dogs, his head hanging disjointedly from his neck as he chased her through the grassy areas.  
“Will you look in here? I’m gonna go ask Professor Fury if he’s seen it.”  
“Hurry back, I’m trying to get back to the dorm before dark.” Natasha rolled her eyes and left, leaving me to search the rows of chairs.  
I’d made some progress when the door opened suddenly startling me. I looked up to see Steve standing in the doorway, faded ‘All American’ print, emblazoned on the front of his hoodie, Nat’s book pressed to his chest.  
“Oh, hey.”  
He waved, lopsided smile revealing perfect teeth. “Is Nat here? She left her book in lab. She said she’d meet me here.”  
“She went to go talk to Fury but I can take her book.” He handed it to me, his hand grazing mine. “Thanks.”  
“Yeah, anytime. I hope Nat gets her book.”  
“She will.”  
Steve nodded and turned towards the door before, turning around, sneakers squeaking on linoleum floors. “Sam?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Actually are you uh, on saturday...for lunch?”  
“Umm, yeah sure, I’ll meet you at the cafe around 11?”  
Steve nodded, blush coloring his cheeks and began walking out of the room. He pushed on the doors, but was unable to open them Steve hung his head slightly as he fumbled with the lecture hall doors. When he finally opened them he gave me a small wave, stumbling back into the hall. I watched as he walked down the hallway, and almost took a double take when a familiar spirit trailed behind him.  
Nat entered the room after Steve left. “Great! You found my book.” She smiled brightly at me, as I handed her the book.  
“Why are you scheming?”  
“It worked didn’t it?” She said sashaying out of the room, flashing me an elated smile. I shook my head and followed suit, mind occupied with thoughts of his cherry blush and smile that seemed to calm the roaring tides of the spirits.  
***  
I met Steve that Saturday at the campus adjacent cafe. It was brightly lit and succulents hung from the ceiling, highlighting the forest green and cream walls. The atmosphere was easy and effortless mirroring the conversation I’d started with Steve. It seemed as if we’d known each other before and that through dimensions and timelines we’d found each other once again.  
We’d fallen into a conversation about Nick Fury, a man that I held healthy amounts for fear and respect for. “Yeah the scariest part of that class is when something happens and he gets really quiet like he’s planning 1 million different ways to mess with us.” Steve joked.  
“Do you know how he got the eyepatch?”  
“Nat asked, but he just told her not to trust anyone.”  
“I have no idea why they let him on the faculty.” Steve laughed his head tilting back, exposing the long column of his neck.  
“He is a good teacher though, besides if that guy came to you for a job, wouldn’t you hire him immediately?”  
“Hell I’d probably give him my position.” We fell into mutual laughter, when the door of the cafe opened slightly, causing a few of the other customers to turn around, all slightly ruffled by the absence of a person entering the building. They didn’t see the young man, or young ghost rather slink into the cafe, clothes hanging off of him like the heaviest of cobwebs. They didn’t see the way he longingly watched one of the waitresses, gaunt eyes twinged with longing, but who was I to point that out to them.  
“Stupid wind.” Steve muttered, the corners of his lips still maintaining their joyful lilt. He seemed like he was holding onto some sort of secret in that moment, a knowing air seemed to hover over him, one that wasn’t linked to the ghost standing next to him. Maybe he knew more than he was letting on.  
“Maybe it wasn’t the wind.” I took a sip of my tea, eyes stuck on Steve. “Maybe it was a ghost.” Steve’s eyes clouded over suddenly, and quickly sat back in his chair. He regarded me as if I’d become a stranger.  
“There isn’t such a thing as ghosts Sam. The dead stay dead, no matter what you try to do to bring them back.” The ghost flinched and turned his head away from Steve, almost as if he was experiencing an otherworldly kind of pain, something akin to heartbreak.  
“Sorry, no more ghost jokes.” Steve bit his lip and nodded, obviously trying to bite back old pains. Despite the fact that conversation had returned back to normal, there was still something in the air looming over us as we jested and ate. Steve may not be able to see ghosts, but he knows something about them, something devastating.  
***  
There is something so elegant about a flower shop, being surrounded by rootless beauty, echoes of nature arranged for our enjoyment, arranged to add a little beauty to the monotony of our lives. Going into the flower shop was my idea, building flower crowns with the owners was one of the many dates we’d gone on in the last three months, our relationship blooming like the flowers we’d weaved.  
Steve had spent the entire date smiling as if the sun was in his teeth, roses hanging loosely from his forehead as he snapped pictures on his phone. “Move a little to the left, the lighting is off.” He positioned me, nimble fingers pushing the crown of sunflowers up onto my head. He snapped a few photos. “Perfect.” I imagined that if heaven existed it would be this moment, with this person, forever.  
“I’m gonna go grab my wallet from the car.” Steve remarked, bringing me back to the present. He pressing a fleeting kiss to my jaw. I watched him walk away, a little shocked by the fact that he’d gone alone. I glanced over at Steve’s Ghost, hovering by the lilies. It was the first time I’d seen his face softened into something other than a scowl. It was as if he’d regained some sort of consciousness in that moment, a revival. He seemed like he was beautiful once, whole once. I watched him for a little too long because when he turned around, his face returned to it’s typical glower.  
“Hey! I know you can see me!” I tried to ignore him, tried to maintain my ignorance but he’d moved in front of me, his body seeming to eclipse everything else in the shop. “You leave him alone! You leave him alone!” I shook my head, more so in fear then stubbornness. “Leave him alone!”  
I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder and I looked up to see Steve’s concerned gaze. “Leave him alone!” Steve’s Ghost said again shattering vases to the floor. The entire shop seemed to be in shock, not knowing the source of the crash.  
“Baby?” Steve asked me,  
Snatching myself away from his grasp I began moving towards the door. “I’m sorry Steve!” I called out to him, stumbling over my feet as his ghost watched me in smug satisfaction.  
***  
“What is your problem!?” Nat asked as she entered my dorm room, Clint trailing behind her like a lost puppy. She slung her bag onto my bed, all while giving me her favorite look, of sheer disappointment. “You were going out with the guy of your dreams and then you stop taking his calls and start avoiding him.”  
I refused to look up from my textbook, focusing in on the explicit account of the civil war. “You wouldn’t understand.”  
“Help me understand Sam.” She took a seat next to me trying to catch my eye. “I want to understand why you’re being so self-destructive.”  
“Just leave it alone Nat. It didn’t work out. End of story.”  
“Sam.” I shook my head and stood to my feet. “Sam!” Nat and Clint called as I stalked out of the dorm room. The less I talked about what happened the less real it was, and with Nat trying to investigate it made me think of the look of shock, of desolation on Steve’s face that day at the flower shop.  
I decided to go to the park, blow off some of some steam, try to meditate some of the stress away, when I heard a loud shout of “Rogers!” I turned around only to see Steve walking up to two guys that personified trouble. They all looked inordinately angry as if Steve’s meer presense pissed them off. Steve, who’s sweatshirts always seemed to engulf him pushed his sleeves up and marched towards them like a soldier going to war.  
The biggest guy swung at him first. The punch knocked Steve all the way back, his body impacting the pavement in unnatural ways. By then I’d made my way over to the fight, pushing back the asshole who’d just hit Steve. Steve looked at me and spat blood in my direction before returning to the fight tackling the other guy with an insane amount of force. It had become a game of back and forth until Steve landed a blow that sent the big guy spiralling backwards and out of the park.  
“What the fuck Steve?” I asked him motioning towards the guys who’d just run away, licking their wounds.  
“It’s been two weeks Sam.” Steve scowled, avoiding my question and gaze while, wiping the blood from his face in one harsh motion. Silence hung heavy in the air but neither of us moved away from the other.  
“I know.” He shook his head and scoffed. “I got scared Steve. I was having second thoughts and thinking about the future and I want it with you. I just have stuff from the past holding me back.”  
He looked up at me then, his eyes finally meeting mine. “That’s no excuse. You could have talked to me about it.”  
“I really don’t talk to anyone about this stuff.”  
“If we’re going to do this Sam I need to be the exception.” I wonder if he felt the hope settling into the atmosphere like I did.  
“I will, I promise I will, it’s just...unbelievable.”  
“Trauma is like that...I know.” He reached out to me, pulling me into a hug that was more for him than it was for me. It was reconciliation, acceptance and revaival, all made sweeter when Steve’s ghost glanced at me, nodding in quiet acceptance, maybe even in resignation.  
***  
In the weeks after that we pieced ourselves back together, creating something even more whole than before. It was in the aftermath that I found myself spending my first night in Steve’s apartment. An afternoon of studying turned into a night of pleasure, although less pleasurable after we’d both drifted off into sleep and Steve had begun kicking a screaming in his sleep.  
He began crying out for his mother and someone named Bucky, writhing and screaming as he did so. Steve’s ghost who had kindly spent most of the night surged into the room hovering over Steve in thinly veiled fear. “Steve, I'm here.” He murmured, unsure of what to do. He looked over at me with blue eyes, pleading.  
“Steve baby, wake up.” I pulled him close to me, his skin clammy and pale. “Come on, it’s just a dream.” He kicked and sprawled, sobbing uncontrollably as he did so. “Steve it’s in your head, it’s in your head.” He wrestled around for a few more minutes, gasping as if he’d almost drowned.  
“Sam!” He sounded hoarse almost as if he hadn’t spoken in years.  
“Bad dream?” He attempted a smile.  
“I just...my...Bucky... I uh lost him.” Steve’s words caught in his throat and his ghost flinched. I figured that was Bucky, that the puzzle pieces were about to create a full picture.  
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”  
“I uh, I want to...I just need a minute.” Steve took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking with the large blue comforter. “We were ghost hunting,” Steve chuckled dryly, “and something happened to Bucky... I don’t know what but he just.. disappeared. There was light and shouting and... about a week later they found his body at the bottom of the elevator shaft... broken to pieces...”  
“Baby...I’m so sorry.”  
“I just miss him so much.” Steve sobbed into my shoulder.  
“Tell him.” Bucky pleaded, his figure hunched over in desperation.  
I took a deep breath, pulling Steve closer in “I...I can see ghosts.”  
Steve snatched himself from my grasp. “Sam...what the fuck did you just say to me?”  
“I can see ghosts and I see Bucky, he’s with you, watching over you. He’s here.”  
Steve stared at me open mouthed, disbelief coloring rosy cheeks. “Ghosts... killed my best friend and you want to tell me this now? You’re telling me he’s here now of all times?”  
“I just, I thought it was time to be honest with you, since you were with me.”  
“I can’t... I can’t do this right now Sam...this just- I need you,” He waved a hand in the air, covering most of the bedroom with one swoop, “both of you to just...get out for now.” He pointed to the door, refusing to even look in my direction.  
I stopped at the doorway, looking back at his hunched over body, exhausted. “I’m sorry Steve.” He just shook his head for what seemed like an eternity, even doing it as I drifted from the apartment along with an even more despondent ghost.  
***  
Steve kept tracing the rim of his coffee cup with his pinky, something he only did when anxious, when filled with fear. He had dark circles under his eyes and he looked as if he hadn't slept in the week since we’d last talked. He seemed to drown in the light grey hoodie he was wearing, he looked smaller than ever. I knew that I didn't look better, I probably looked worse.  
“Is...is Bucky here?” He asked, eyes flickering up at mine.  
I motioned next to me, even though I knew he couldn’t see him. “Yeah.” Steve swallowed and looked over, obviously trying to recreate Bucky in his mind.  
“What...what happened that night Buck?”  
Bucky seemed to fold into himself, frowning as he spoke. “That night...I saw my gran, she looked like she did when I was little, all grey hair and spunk ya‘know? And she smiled at me, but then...she morph’d into this crazy ghost all angry and blue and it knock’d me into the elevator and I uh. Splat.” I repeated his every word, even as Steve began to cry, even as he began to tremble. “After that I just kinda followed you ‘round making sure none of the bad spirits could get to you. I tried to make contact... ‘member that vase you got, the ugly one with the sunflowers on it? I knock’d it over to get your attention and you never... you never even thought it was me. Never even thought it was me.”  
“All these years, you’ve been with me?” Steve asked.  
“Every day, but you got Sam now.”  
“But I just got you back Bucky...”  
“I will always be here, but you don’t need me and it’s... it’s time to move on Stevie.”  
Steve nodded, hair sweeping across his face. “This won’t be the last time we talk right?”  
“No. You call me, I’ll be here.”  
“I love you Buck, you gotta know that.”  
“Love you too Punk.” Bucky said, wrapping himself around Steve even though he couldn't feel it. He nodded to me before disappearing, his absence sudden and noticeable, contentedness replacing mourning.  
“Bucky?”  
“He’s gone Steve.”  
“Thank you.” Steve whispered to me, after a long bout of silence, his hands shaking. “Thank you.”  
***  
We’d been strong for a year, weathering life’s highs and lows together, supporting each other through nightmares and gruesome encounters with spirits. We’d gotten a place a couple blocks from campus with Nat and Clint, two bedrooms with a view of the city and a local coffee shop that made the best muffins in the country. Steve would often muse on how we were going to do this forever, under the guide of the sun. I would always agree. Ever so often I’d see Bucky, sometimes watching over us, sometimes enjoying existence, in whatever form it took. He looked happy. He looked free, finally.


End file.
